


A Summer of Recovery

by Ivealwayswantedtousethatspell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, And Then He Gets Depressed About It, BAMF Hermione Granger, BAMF Minerva McGonagall, BAMF Poppy Pomfrey, Because He Should Have a Proper Redemption Arc If He's Going to Have one, Because She Is Amazing, But Minnie and Poppy Adopt Him, But he does make mistakes, Child Abuse, Dumbledore Isn't Manipulative, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Harry Has a Bad Life, Harry Has a Family Now, Hermione Does the Most She Possibly Can, Hurt/Comfort, I don't normally write angst, Injury Recovery, M/M, Or He Will By The End, Recovery, Rituals, Scars, Snape Sees the Mess He's Caused and Tries to Make It Better, Soulbonds, The Summer After Fourth Year, This is pretty angsty, Vivid nightmares, With Hermione's Help of Course, and so does Hermione, but here we are, but it's only temporary, harry has a familiar, selective mutism, voldemort is back
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:14:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28525302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivealwayswantedtousethatspell/pseuds/Ivealwayswantedtousethatspell
Summary: Harry’s summer is going more than just a little bit rubbish.He’s only been at Private Drive for two weeks, nightmares about his family and the graveyard plaguing his every sleeping minute, and pain from his Uncle’s beatings claiming every waking minute.Remus and Sirius get permission from Dumbledore – because he calls all the shots for some reason – to bring Harry to Grimmauld Place two weeks early. This is great, because Harry doesn’t want to stay with the Dursleys, why would he? But the injuries covering his body make him want to stay away.Minnie and Poppy (they are the cutest couple, fight me) become his guardians and they try to help him, along with Hermione (yes, this is a ha/hr story) but complications force them into a dangerous ritual.Please Note: this fic is a story arc inside a bigger story arc, it only spans a single summer and does not cover the defeat of Voldemort, as that is not what it is about. If this this annoys you, I suggest not reading.WARNINGS: for graphic descriptions of abuse, in dreams and in person, and quite graphic descriptions of injuries and scars. The Mature rating is for this, not for sexual content; this fic has NO sexual content. Just cuddles and fluff.
Relationships: Ginny Weasley/Neville Longbottom (Minor), Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood/Ron Weasley (Minor), Minerva McGonagall/Poppy Pomfrey, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 43
Kudos: 73





	1. Survive the summer

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: for Graphic Descriptions of abuse. I CANNOT stress this enough, it’s graphic guys. Most of it’s just in the first two chapters, that’s when it’s the worst, but it’s a theme the whole way through because this is a recovery fic.  
> Disclaimers: obviously if you recognise it, it’s JK’s not mine (if something belongs to neither of us then I’ll say). I have done research on everything I talk about in this fic, abuse, selective mutism, and PTSD, but I have no first-hand experience with any of it (which I am forever blessed for) so I’m sorry if I have anything wrong or inaccurate. If I do, please tell me (nicely) and I’ll see what I can do :)  
> Other important things: this story does not go all the way through to the defeat of Voldemort. Voldemort is still there, still being an evil megalomaniac, but this is a recovery fic that spans a single summer, it stops when they go back to school. It is a smaller story inside of a bigger story and although it’s not suddenly going to stop, hopefully it will still seem like a full story, but not all story arcs will finish so if that annoys you, I suggest not reading.  
> With warnings, disclaimers and other important things done, (hi if you’re still here) lets get to it!

Harry felt a rib crack as the first blow fell to his stomach, accompanied by a loud sickly snap.

The next few blows fell to his face, shattering his glasses with a crunch and leaving a trail of tiny cuts across his eyelids, forehead, and cheeks. His nose began to throb, and he was blinded by blood to the point that he didn’t see the next blow coming; he was suddenly thrown backwards as the full weight of his uncle pushed up against him.

He went straight through the low glass table that was in the centre of the living room and lay there, unable to curl up and protect the vital organs in his torso through the pain of the glass sticking into his back and arms.

Powerless against the fury of his Uncle he tried to move as little as possible as the kicks rained down on his stomach and legs, pushing the glass further and further into his back with gauges and scrapes, knowing that it would be worse if he did.

Trying not to make a sound or show the pain – despite them both knowing that it was there – Harry tried to curl up into a ball but stopped abruptly when a huge amount of weight came down of his hand, which immediately cracked and started to bleed as the bones pierced the skin.

As he let out an unstoppable gasp of pain, his Uncle cackled with laughter and aimed a kick to his shin, which let out a sharp crack as the brittle bone was fractured.

This done, he grabbed Harry by the back of his shirt and dragged him from the room, over the glass, leaving a trail of blood that he was sure he would be made to clean the next day. They made it to his room (Harry wasn’t sure how they managed the stairs, it just been a blur) and he was dumped unceremoniously on the floor by the door.

“You can clean the mess up tomorrow.” Vernon growled before stomping out of the room and locking the five locks behind him as he went.

Harry couldn’t even reply as he was drifting on the edge of consciousness. The last thing he heard was a concerned hoot from Hedwig as he slipped into a dreamless state of unconsciousness; something that was very rare for him.

The next morning, he was awakened by the sound of the locks on his door being aggressively undone and the creak of the hinges as it was flung open.

“Mum wants you downstairs in half an hour, freak.” Came the mocking voice of his Cousin, then the door was slammed again.

Carefully, Harry tested which of his limbs would move while trying to remember what had happened. His left hand was numb, covered in blood and severely swollen, he knew he wouldn’t be able to put any weight on his right leg and he could feel several places where his Uncle’s boot had connected with his other leg and arms.

There was no one place where his stomach and chest hurt, it was a constant all over throbbing that worsened with every breath and seemed to go right through him.

He couldn’t see, mostly because his glasses were destroyed, but also because his cheek had swollen to such an extent that it intruded his line of sight.

Unable to hold back a groan but keeping it as soft as possible, Harry tried to lift his right hand to pull the useless frames off his face when he realised that he was still clutching a piece of parchment in his hand. That was when he remembered what had happened the day before.

_Harry was in the kitchen cooking dinner for Vernon while he watched wrestling in the living room. Petunia and Dudley had gone out for a meal with some school friends which meant that Harry was on edge – being home with just his Uncle had proved dangerous on multiple occasions in the past as Vernon seemed to be against his family being around when he did anything major to his Nephew, despite them inevitably seeing the results when they got home._

_Unusually, dinner went without a hitch, as his uncle didn’t seem to be able to find anything wrong with the food, and Harry almost relaxed despite the dangerous looks that he was getting that clearly warned of the beating him would get if anything went wrong._

_As he mindlessly did the washing up, Harry considered his summer so far; he had been back at Private Drive for two weeks, but it felt more like two months. Every day had been filled with sporadic punches from his Uncle, jobs that made his hands bleed and nightmares that forced him away from sleep and into exhaustion._

_All in all, he contemplated, it hadn’t been as bad as it could have been. His Uncle had knocked his around a little when he had done something wrong, or just not fast enough, but he hadn’t had any true beatings as he had the previous three summers after trying to trick his aunt and uncle into thinking that he would turn him into animals if they did anything to him after his first year, not being able to do anything quickly enough due to the effects of the Basilisk after his second year, and telling them that he had a mass murderer for a godfather after his third._

_He hadn’t bothered to tell them about the tournament, or Voldemort or Cedric, despite the daily nightmares and visions he had been having that had been rendering him exhausted. Telling his relatives would only result in more mocking and punches than if he had just stayed silent._

_‘Yes’, he thought, ‘it could be a lot worse’ – he didn’t deserve any better, anyway._

_Just as he finished the thought, there was a hoot and an owl appeared at the window with a note. He took it and tried to persuade the owl to leave before his Uncle (who had gone back to watching TV) heard it and came in fury. But the owl didn’t leave, instead letting out a loud hoot._

_“What’s that noise, boy?! What freakish things are you doing?!”_

_“Nothing Uncle Vernon.” Harry called back, a little desperately, then looked at the note, it read:_

**_Harry, you’ve been there long enough,_ **

**_Some of the Order are coming for you tomorrow, six pm._ **

****

_It was a short note, but it made his heart leap; he would only be here one more day!_

_Before he could react, the owl hooted, and his Uncle shouted again._

_“Freak?! You are doing something! Wait until I get my hands on you, you’ll wish you were never born! One day I’ll get rid of you all together and the world will be a better place.”_

_There was the stomping of footsteps and Harry folded the note into his hand before trying to shoo the owl away again. But it was frightened by a roar from Vernon and launched clumsily off Harry’s shoulder, knocking a tree of mugs off the worktop of he flew out of the window._

_Vernon launched after the bird, but he missed – the owl had quickly left through the nearest window - then turned back to Harry, who darted out of the kitchen and into the living room._

_Unfortunately, his reaction times were severely decreased by his exhaustion, and so he couldn’t stop his Uncle from latching onto his shoulder…_

The Order were coming for him that night; Harry knew that only had one day to recover enough for them to not notice his new injuries, which he realised was fairly impossible as he squinted into the mirror.

Over the past few years his Uncle had beat him at the beginning of the summer, giving him at least a month to heal and ensuring that no-one would know unless Harry himself told – which he had been warned off doing, not that he was inclined to share anyway – and there wouldn’t be any evidence by that point anyway.

This was going to be a lot harder to hide, especially as he didn’t even know where he was going.

Forcing himself to move, he pulled himself to his feet – or one foot, as the other leg couldn’t support his weight – and raked his oversized t-shirt off his body, pulling with it several bits of broken glass.

He ignored this new pain, knowing that he could do nothing to stop it or get rid of the glass. He had got glass in his back once before and some of it was still there, a few tiny slivers embedded under the skin, as he hadn’t been able to get it out himself and his relatives did not care about helping him.

Grabbing fresh t-shirt and trousers and moved to the bathroom. Knowing that taking a shower would be too painful, he took a cloth and dampened it before gently washing the blood off himself and picking the glass that was the most easily accessible from his skin.

Staring into the mirror he tried to see what he looked like, but between his lack of glasses and swollen face, he couldn’t see much beyond the fact that he didn’t look normal. He pulled on his clothes and finished getting ready, dreading the day of chores that was ahead of him; how was he supposed to do anything with just one hand and barely any vision?

Clutching the note from whoever it was from the Order who sent it, Harry made his way downstairs to cook breakfast for his relatives. They were all already impatiently sat at the table and only Petunia looked up as he entered.

“Breakfast, now. Hurry up.” She sneered at him, taking in the injuries on his face with sick delight.

Wordlessly – he voice didn’t seem to want to work – he pushed the note across the table to her; she read it with a frown then a look of horror crosses her face and she called her husband to read it.

“What’s this, boy? The letter that frightful animal brought last night?”

Harry nodded and Vernon paled then stood up, walked into the hall and unlocked the cupboard under the stairs.

“Go upstairs and pack. Stay there until these freaks come up.” He gave a sneer, “Look after yourself.”

The words made it sound like his Uncle was being nice to him, but Harry knew that what he was actually doing was giving him as much time as possible to look normal, which they both knew wouldn’t be achieved after a day’s work, but they also both knew what would happen if someone caught on.

Mutely, he turned and shuffled into the cupboard to gather his trunk then tried his best to haul it up the stairs, limping heavily all the way. As he was moving, dizziness started to set in, making him sway and stagger as he walked, nearly falling with every step.

He could hear the argument between his relatives as he limped, his aunt screeching about how stupid his uncle was to have no checked the other freaks were coming from him before beating him.

Reaching his room, he stepped over the pool of blood that was drying on the floor and dumped his trunk in one corner before moving over to his bed. He collapsed from the dizziness half on and half off the hard bed and fell into unconsciousness.

_Darkness, screaming, a flash of green light, an evil high-pitched cackle; the same dream he had been having since the first time he encountered a dementor._

_Then the dream changed, as it had been doing recently, into the graveyard._

_“Kill the spare.”_

How could a life mean so little to anyone?

_Another flash of green, this time ending the life of someone he saw as a friend._

_Cedric’s face was a picture of curiosity and fear. He hadn’t been trying to end up in this graveyard, he had just been trying to stay alive, like Harry himself. But now Harry was alive, and Cedric was dead – the innocent bystander was dead – and it was all Harry’s fault._

Voldemort told him so, as did his Mother, his Father, Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, Ron, even Cedric himself. They told him every night, forcing him to stay and listen, to stay and watch Cedric’s death again and again, powerless to do anything.

He had killed Cedric.

_Again, his wand connected with Voldemort and he saw his mother and father coming out of his wand; but now he could see the disappointment in their faces and hear it in their voices. He didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it on the night this had actually happened – he knew it must have been there, he was just too arrogant to see it then._

_Now however, he had seen to too many times to count, he couldn’t unsee it; it was always there every time he closed his eyes. They were disappointed in him, so disappointed, and he hated himself for it._

_“If I could spare his life,” he sobbed to the ghosts of his parents, “If I could trade his life for mine, he’d be standing here right now. You would smile, and that would be enough.”_

Countless times he had imagined himself letting Voldemort kill him. He tried to imagine the peace that would wash over him, but he couldn’t find that peace inside himself while he was alive, not matter how hard he tried.

The dream morphed again, this time into his Uncle advancing towards him.

_He could see everything in crystal clear detail: balled fists, twitching eyebrows, glowing red eyes._

_“You’re worthless. You’re a freak. You deserve to die like your parents.”_

_“I know, I know.” Harry sobbed._

He had been told this so many times, it rang true in his ears.

He was worthless, a freak.

_His Uncle was there, punching him, kicking him, pushing his head into the wall repeatedly; there was nothing he could or would do about it. Maybe this time would be the time it killed him._

_Wishing for the fatal blow, waiting for the calm of death that he could never imagine to settle over him, he let out small gasps as each blow was felt all over his body, making it feel like it was on fire._

_Suddenly, it wasn’t his Uncle anymore, but his father, black hair flopping over his face as he landed the punches. There were people in the background, a whole crowd - his mother, Remus, Sirius - were egging his father on, waiting for their turn. Ron, Ginny and Neville were there also, quiet but with disappointed, even disgusted, looks on their faces._

_Hermione was there too, but strangely she was stood off to the side, with a heartbroken look on her face. She held out her hand and Harry held out his, trying to move toward her but another punch landed in his gut and he doubled over in pain._

_A hand grasped his hair and pulled his head upwards until he was looking directly into the face of his father._

_“We died for you, and this is how you repay us? By letting more die? I’m ashamed to call you my son.”_

Harry could see the disgust in his dad’s eyes, and he could see that it was echoed in his mother’s also. He hung his head in shame but couldn’t seem to say anything, he didn’t see that there was anything to say; he couldn’t make it better, he couldn’t give anyone their life back – he had made the mistakes and now he had to live with them.

He knew that he wasn’t worth the peace of death.

With tears streaming down his face he woke, the cuts on his face stinging and smarting in a way that was hardly noticeable with the other injuries covering his body.

He lay there for a few minutes, unable to move through the pain in his body and mind, but eventually he summoned the will power to sit up and examine himself.

Thankfully, his face was less swollen now – clearly, he had been asleep for a few hours – but that seemed to be the only thing that was any better. He could feel a sticky mess on his back that signified he had been bleeding again, not that it had ever really stopped, and the rest of him was littered with bruises, most pretty much the exact size of his Uncle’s shoe or fist.

His torse was just one big bruise and throbbed each and every time he took a breath. Some ribs were pushing up on the skin at weird angles and the ones that weren’t were right next to the surface because of the lack of food he had eaten since the third task, nearly a month previously.

Peering at his hand, he saw a mass of red and purple and the fingers didn’t seem to be where they were supposed to be at all. His wristed felt like it was on fire, but the actual hand was still numb - not that he was sure whether that was a good thing or not.

Letting out a sort of sigh where no noise came out, he stiffly rose and limped heavily across the room, staring up at the clock on his wall to try and tell what time it was. A combination of the darkness in the room from the boarded-up windows, the throbbing in his head and his lack of glasses meant that he couldn’t see the hands of the clock and instead had to feel for them.

Ten minutes past three; he had slept for nearly seven hours and he did feel fractionally better for it. Not much, but at least he didn’t feel like he was going to collapse at any second now, even if he was still dizzy from blood loss.

Pushing open his trunk with his good hand, he began to stuff everything into it, not noticing what it was or where it was going, just wanting to get it all in.

That done, he shuffled to the bathroom, thankful that his Uncle hadn’t locked the door, and began to clean himself up again, finding yet more glass in his arms and hips.

Working methodically, he stripped and picked every last bit that he could reach out of himself, wincing as each small piece came out as some of it had started to heal over just enough that the skin ripped painfully.

Once had had finished, he took a drink from the tap, feeling marginally better for the coolness against his throat. He slipped the broken frames of his glasses into his pocket, hoping that someone would be able to fix then later, and made his way back to his room, stopping to listen at the top of the stairs on the way.

Hearing the blaring of the TV, he guessed that his relatives would be watching a gameshow - one of their favourites was on at three thirty every day – and wouldn’t bother him for another hour at least.

Lying on his front on his bed - as lying on his back was more painful, if fractionally – he began to sob uncontrollably, the tears streaming down his face in torrents.

Alone in his bedroom, as he had spent most of his childhood and subsequent summers, he was used to finding things to occupy himself, but this summer he found that he had absolutely nothing to distract him from the flashing images that were appearing in his mind’s eye.

The same flashes of light and screams as in his dreams were seen everywhere; they didn’t leave him alone no matter whether he was awake or asleep, concentrating on something else or completely submerged into his mind.

Eventually his tears slowed, and his mind began to numb as he pushed out all emotion. He welcomed it, his body was more relaxed than it had been in months, even if it was sore all over and, thought it was unnerving to feel so lethargic, he welcomed it because he simply didn’t care anymore.

He didn’t care that his so-called family beat him and treated him like dirt, because he felt like dirt, he didn’t care that no-one ever bothered to check on his over the summer, because he didn’t feel worth caring about, and he didn’t care that Voldemort was after him, because all Harry wanted was the peace of death that Voldemort could bring.

An unknown amount of time later Harry was pulled out of his stupor by a hoot from Hedwig that made him flinch. Suddenly, his emotions came back to him in waves, smothering him and choking him so that he had to breathe in gasping breaths.

After what seemed like an eternity, Hedwig’s soft twittering’s brought him back under control and he gently pressed his hand into his face as if the check that he was all still there. But he wasn’t, he knew that he wasn’t, a piece of him had been left behind in that graveyard.

Shakily, he pulled himself up and shuffled across the room, his right leg mostly numb, with occasional shocks of pain when he put even a little weight on it. Holding out a trembling hand he reached for the clock and tried to get his brain to process what his hand was telling him.

Five thirty. Someone would be there to pick him up in thirty minutes.

A wave of anxiety flew through him and settled on his stomach, smothering the ache of hunger that had become almost unnoticeable over the years. There was almost no way they weren’t going to find out – he wouldn’t be able to hide the obvious damage to his hand and his bust up face, would he?

Flopping down on the floor where he stood when a bout of dizziness swept in, he tried to clear his brain and formulate _some_ kind of plan, but he couldn’t, his mind was just screaming at him.

_‘They will know. In less than an hour, they will know. You can’t stop it. They’ll know how worthless you are, how freaky. In less than an hour.’_

There was nothing he could do, nothing at all. And that was terrifying.

Only a little while later, his Uncle roared for him to ‘get his sorry freakish self downstairs this instant’ so he pulled himself up and put on a long-sleeved t-shirt before staggering down the stairs with his trunk and Hedwig’s cage. Dumping his stuff in the hall by the door, he moved towards the kitchen, as that was where he could hear Vernon’s noisy breathing.

Slipping into the room he sidled into his Uncle’s line of view.

“Boy.” His Uncle sneered at him, “How did you get that cut on your face?”

Harry knew he was being tested, “I fell down the stairs.” He croaked, hearing his own voice for the first time in twenty-four hours.

“That’s right, you did. I promise you, if you go spreading lies about how you got these injuries, you’ll be sorry.”

He didn’t have to look at his Uncle’s face to know that he was being deadly serious. He nodded mutely and for a second the image from his dream of Vernon with flashing red eye morphing into his father flashed before his eyes.

Trying to bet rid of it, he squeezed them shut and took a deep breath, no longer caring if his Uncle could see his weakness – they both knew that he was weak anyway.

There was a knock at the door and Vernon pointed to it.

“I assume that’s your fellow freak. Leave now - and hide that hand!” he snapped.

Harry just shuffled to the door and pulled it open – tucking his hand into his voluminous clothes as he went - to reveal tired looking Remus Lupin and a young woman, who looked to be only a little older than himself, with a pale heart-shaped face, dark twinkling eyes and short spiky hair that was a violent shade of purple.

Both were grinning up at him and Harry felt himself relax marginally. Remus gave him a funny look at the sight of his cut and bruised face, but clearly decided that now was not the time; Harry ignored it.

“Remus!”

“Hey, Harry. How are you?”

Unable to force himself to lie, he just nodded wordlessly and asked, “Who’s this?”

“Wotcher Harry, I’m Tonks.” The purple haired girl answered before Remus could, she offered him a warm smile which he tried his best to returned despite the turmoil within his stomach.

“Nice to meet you Tonks. Do you think we could get going, wherever it is that we’re going?”

“Don’t you want to say goodbye to your family?”

“They’re not my family, but I already have thanks.” He answered quickly.

Remus narrowed his eyes fractionally but accepted it.

“Okay, we’re going to the secret headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, it’s only just been set up which was why we weren’t going to come and get you for another few weeks, but we persuaded Dumbledore that you had been here long enough.”

He carefully looked around before bending over, casting a quick spell on Harry’s trunk and picking it up while Harry asked.

“What’s the Order of the Phoenix?”

Tonks grabbed Hedwig’s cage and they began to make their way to the nearest apparition point, Harry trying to make it look like he wasn’t limping.

“It’s an organisation, run by Dumbledore, he started it in the first wizarding war to work against Voldemort and he restarted it as soon as he came back, gathering all the old members and a few new, like me.” Tonks answered.

Harry nodded, “And where’s the Headquarters?”

“Ah, I can’t tell you that, it’s secret. But I will tell you that Snuffles is there.” Tonks grinned and Harry gave her a small smile back.

As they reached the apparition point, Tonks grabbed onto his arm and turned on the spot, Harry moving with her.

The next thing he knew everything went black and he was pressed very hard from all directions; he couldn’t breathe, there were iron bands tightening painfully around his chest, aggravating his cuts and bruises and his eyeballs were being forced back into his head, his eardrums were being pushed deeper into his skull.

Suddenly, the sensations stopped, but the damage had been done; he squeezed his eyes shut and gasped for breath before retching, but nothing came out as there was nothing to come out.

He trembled all over and Tonks let out a small laugh, “Wow, I’ve never seen anyone react so badly to their first apparition before. If you come inside, we can give you some potions to help.”

Harry gave a minute nod and opened his eyes to see where he was, he was in a small, unkept square with a patch of green in the centre and terraced houses around the edge, and he could tell that they were all grimy and a little derelict even with his terrible eyesight.

Remus handed a piece of paper with loopy writing on it that was clearly Dumbledore’s.

**_The Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix,_ **

**_Can be found at twelve Grimmauld Place, London._ **

****

He looked up from the parchment after he had read it only to find that a building was appearing in between numbers eleven and thirteen. It looked exactly like the others, grey and grimy, as it pushed a gap for itself. Fidelius charm his slightly fuzzy brain supplied and he staggered up the path behind Tonks and ahead of Remus.

Entering the front hall of the house, the gloom meant that Harry could only see shadows which grated on his already frayed nerves and he flinched violently when Remus grabbed him by the arm and led him through a doorway into an overwhelmingly bright room that made him blink furiously.

A shout of “Harry!” made him flinch and just as his eyes got used to the light, he saw a blurry shape moving towards him at speed.

Quickly he dodged put of the way, slamming his back into the wall, and letting out a hiss at the unexpected pain of the glass fragments digging deeper.

 _No, no, no,_ he had broken two rules; no dodging, no noises of pain.

Curling his arms around his stomach to protect it, he squeezed his eyes shut and braced for the impact of his punishment. Dimly, he could hear someone shouting.

“Harry? What’s the matter, Harry?”, he could feel that someone was right next to him and their voice was working its way into his mind.

 _Not Uncle Vernon_ , Harry thought, _Sirius_. He was just about to try and crack open and eye to check it was safe when he heard a loud gasp and a cry of, “What happened to your hand?”

No, no, no, they couldn’t find out, they couldn’t know how weak he was. Sirius expected him to be just like his father, he had to be strong – he wouldn’t like him otherwise.

Breath coming in quick gasps, he moved backwards, this time going straight through the doorway back into the hall; he could still hear Sirius’ urgent calling and he began to retch in between his gasps.

How could he get out of this? What could he say to convince them that he just had an accident?

Suddenly, an eye splitting, screeching voice was heard, right next to his head. Head spinning, he recoiled and stumbled backwards over his leg, hitting the ground with a thud. The screeching continued and he was unexpectedly blinded by a light being turned on; the dizziness intensified, and then he was unconscious.

_Immediately a nightmare started; it was the same as earlier in the day where his red-eyed uncle had morphed into his father while everyone he loved watched and jeered. Like before, Hermione was not jeering, but holding her hand out, he reached for it but had to look away when a punch landed right in his gut._

He sat up in the bed which he had been moved to with a gasp as he woke then instantly winced from the pain that the huge breath caused his ribs.

Opening his eyes, he saw a blurry figure next to him and recoiled into a ball against the headboard, ignoring the screams of pain from all over his body.

“Harry, Harry.” The voice soothed.

It was Sirius again Harry realised, in a panic, he didn’t sound disgusted, so he clearly didn’t know what had happened yet.

“Here are your glasses, Harry.” Another soothing voice said.

Remus, he realised as he held a shaking hand for his now-fixed glasses which he then shoved onto his nose. He was on a four-poster bed in a room decorated in Gryffindor colours, it didn’t have much it in, just a wardrobe, dresser, bookcase, and desk. There were some pictures on the walls, but Harry didn’t really take any of that in, he was too busy staring at the people in the room.

Sirius was knelt next to his bed while Remus was stood a little way away. Just as he was beginning to relax, a third person appeared at the door and a fourth bustled past them into the room.

“What seems to be the problem?” he vaguely heard, and he froze.

Madam Pomfrey were there; she would find out everything!

Over the next few minutes, he heard the sounds of a vague conversation, but he didn’t know anything that was being said. Eventually, Madam Pomfrey came close to him.

“Harry? What’s the matter, dear? Where does it hurt?”

He just looked up at her with wide eyes, still unable to move.

“Can I see your hand?”

That sent a wave of dread all the way through him and pulled all the air out of his lungs, making him breath in short gasps. Wrapping his hands around his stomach and curling up on himself he squeezed his eyes shut but immediately opened them again when he saw the flash of green light.

More vague conversation, then, “Drink that please, Harry.”

 _‘No, no, no’_ , he thought, ‘ _I can’t – can’t let them find out. No, no, no!’_

“Please drink, it will make you feel better.”

He wanted to shout that it wouldn’t, that nothing would, but he couldn’t seem to force the words out. He squeezed his eyes shut again but this time, instead of the light, he saw Hermione, holding her hand out with a small smile on her face.

“No, no, no – Hermione!” He cried, not realising that he was saying it out loud, “Hermione. No! Hermione!”

There was a strange sensation in his stomach, then nothing – not visions, or dreams, he was just fast asleep – with an image of Hermione softly smiling occasionally drifting across his mind’s eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was... intense. I’m sorry Harry!  
> Let me know what you think :)  
> This is a first for me, writing something so graphic and so, well, angsty. If you aren’t a fan of the graphic stuff, (I don’t know why you’d be all the way down here if you didn’t like it but whatever) then this is the worst it gets, there is no much actual abuse, only dreams and talking about it and descriptions of injuries.  
> Also yes, that is a Hamilton quote. I cringed every time I re-read it, but I couldn’t bring myself to change it, so it’s here to stay now.  
> Note, I’m not sure that this is how glasses would act, but Harry has really cheap glasses so the frames would crack and scratch him even if the plastic wouldn’t.  
> I’m not sure how often I’m to upload, but I’m aiming for once a month, unless all creative juice suddenly deserts me :)


	2. Panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter doesn't have any violence, but it does have quite a bit of detail about injuries.  
> Hi guys! Nice to see you back again! It's been about a month since I uploaded anything, so it's good to be back, even if I did write most of this chapter over Christmas.  
> Anyway, enjoy.  
> Lu

Hermione Granger was sat at the dinner table, chatting happily with her parents over Spaghetti Bolognese when a very recognisable Snowy Owl appeared at the window.

“Hedwig!” Hermione cried, rushing to open the window, “How are you girl?”

The owl gave her a quick peck on the finger, clearly eager for her to read the letter clasped in her claw. Hermione took it, then quickly got a dish of water for Hedwig, who drank gladly.

Opening the letter, she read:

**_Dear Hermione,_ **

**_Harry’s been attacked, can’t give you the details here but he’s safe now._  
He’s calling for you, we couldn’t get him to talk to anyone else and he was panicking, so we gave him a small dose dreamless sleep, enough for two hours.  
I’ll come and pick you up at seven thirty.  
I know you didn’t want to leave your parents so soon; they can come too – they’ll be able to get to work from where we’re going.**

**_Moony._ **

****

Hermione gasped as floods of tears streamed down her face and questions flitted across her brain. Who attacked Harry? How? Why? Where? Is he going to be okay? Why did he want her specifically?

Her father’s comforting arms came around her and she fell into them, sobbing out of worry for her friend who she cared so deeply for.

“Hermione, what’s wrong love?” came the soft voice of her mother.

She waved the letter and felt it being taken out of her hand, then heard a gasp as it was read. She buried her face further into her father’s chest and tried not to think about what would happen if she lost her best friend.

After a while, her sobs lessened to sniffles and she pulled away from her dad’s embrace to reach for a tissue.

“Are you okay, Honey?”

She shook her head, “I need to see him.”

“We can go and pack in a moment, but who is this Moony person?”

“Remus Lupin, his nickname is Moony. He was a friend of Harry’s parents and our DADA professor in third year. He’s really nice and trustworthy.”

Hermione’s mum nodded, “And where will we be going?”

“I’m guessing that they’ve taken Harry to their secret headquarters that they were setting up, so I don’t know exactly.”

“Secret headquarters?”

“There’s a lot I need to tell you, Mum, Dad. And I promise that I will, but I need to see Harry first.”

Her mothered considered her for a moment before deciding to trust her, “Okay Honey.” She pulled her daughter into a hug, “He’s coming in twenty minutes, we’d better pack.”

Hermione ran up the stairs and pulled out her trunk, mindlessly shoving everything that she thought she might need in without bothering to be overly organised while trying to ignore the worry gnawing at her stomach.

Just as she finished dragging her trunk downstairs, there was a knock on the door. She flung it open and ushered Remus through the door while she greeted him.

“Remus, is he okay? What happened? When are we leaving?”

“Hermione, Hermione, slow down.” He laid a comforting hand on her arm, “I know you’re worried but he’s sleeping for now and he won’t wake up for at least another half an hour, we have time.”

They sat down at the kitchen table just as Hermione’s parents came down the stairs. Remus rose to shake their hands.

“You must be Hermione’s parents, I’m Remus Lupin, sorry about this.”

Hermione’s mum spoke up, “Mary and Mathew, nice to meet you, although I wish it was in better circumstances.”

“And don’t worry about bothering us, we’ll do anything for a friend of our daughter.”

Remus nodded and fairly collapsed into the chair.

“We persuaded Dumbledore that Harry had been staying with his Aunt and Uncle for long enough, and that he could move to Headquarters, so myself and a friend of mine went to pick him up.” He began to explain.

_“So Tonks, you finally get to meet Harry.”_

_“Yup, I’m excited to meet someone who is part of your pack.” She smirked._

_“I have to warn you, his relatives don’t like magic folk much. They probably aren’t going to welcome us very warmly.”_

_“Well then, they can meet the business end of my wand.”_

_Remus just snorted gently and raised his hand to knock on the door. After a few minutes, Harry opened it and gave them a small smile._

_Despite the smile, Remus thought that he looked truly awful; he had huge black circles under his eyes, several small cuts and bruises on his face and he was squinting as he wasn’t wearing his glasses._

_His wolf senses immediately told him that something was wrong, but he forced himself to smile, thinking it was better to waiting until they got back to Headquarters._

_“Hi, Harry. How are you?” he asked carefully and was concerned when he simply nodded while looking down at the floor._

_“Who’s this?”_

_“Wotcher Harry, I’m Tonks.” She introduced herself cautiously – obviously he hadn’t been the only one to sense that something was wrong - while Remus was still studying the boy in front of them._

_“Nice to meet you Tonks. Do you think we could get going, wherever it is that we’re going?”_

_“Don’t you want to say goodbye to your family?”_

_“They’re not my family, but I already have thanks.”_

_Remus narrowed his eyes at that phrase, he had heard Harry use it before and every time it made the hair on the back of his neck rise; something really wasn’t right._

_“Okay, we’re going to the secret headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, it’s only just been set up which was why we weren’t going to come and get you for another few weeks, but we persuaded Dumbledore that you had been here long enough.”_

_Giving himself a little shake to bring himself to action as Tonks explained, Remus carefully looked around before bending over, casting a quick spell on Harry’s trunk to lighten it and picking it up while Harry asked._

_“What’s the Order of the Phoenix?”_

_Tonks grabbed Hedwig’s cage and, as they made their way to the nearest apparition point, Remus noticed that Harry seemed to have a small limp – what had happened?_

_“It’s an organisation, run by Dumbledore, he started it in the first wizarding war to work against Voldemort and he restarted it as soon as he came back, gathering all the old members and a few new, like me.” Tonks answered as Remus forced himself to listen to the conversation._

_Harry nodded, “And where’s the Headquarters?”_

_“Ah, I can’t tell you that, it’s secret. But I will tell you that Snuffles is there.” Tonks grinned and Harry gave her a small smile back that Remus noticed was genuinely pleased but didn’t quite meet his eyes._

_As they reached the apparition point, he watched as Tonks reached for Harry’s arm to side-along and saw him flinch with a look of panic on his face._

_When they appeared in Grimmauld Place, Remus watched on the verge of panic as Harry squeezed his eyes shut and began retching, but nothing came out._

_Before he could move towards him, Tonks let out a small laugh, “Wow, I’ve never seen anyone react so badly to their first apparition before. If you come inside, we can give you some potions to help.”_

_He watched Harry gave a minute nod and open his eyes a little to look – or squint – around. Remus handed him the piece of paper with the address on it, just wanting to get his cub inside as soon as possible._

_They waited for a few moments for the house to appear before leading him up the path, still gripping Harry’s light trunk and Hedwig’s cage in their hands._

_The front hall was gloomy as always, so Remus reached out to grab Harry’s arm and lead him into the kitchen, frowning as his cub flinched violently again._

_“Harry!” Sirius cried and Remus couldn’t help but smile at the ecstatic look on his friend’s face._

_Looking at Harry to see his reaction, he was shocked to see him duck out of the way and accidentally slam into the wall, hissing in pain as he did so._

_Sirius pulled up short and asked, “Harry? What’s the matter, Harry?”_

_His cub was curling his arms around his stomach, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing himself against an unknown force._

_“Harry?” Sirius called again and he saw Harry crack open an eye as if to check his surroundings. That was when he saw his hand; it was purple and red and completely deformed, the fingers swollen and sticking out in odd directions._

_Remus couldn’t stop himself from gasping as Sirius cried out, “What happened to your hand?”_

_At his question, Harry moved backwards, his breath coming in quick gasps as he fell straight through the doorway back into the dimly lit hall. Sirius followed him, calling urgent as he heard retching in between the gasps. Remus was frozen with panic._

_Suddenly the portrait in the hall started to screech and there was a thud as Harry stumbled over backwards and hit the ground. Sirius lit his wand and Remus arrived just in time to see his cub pass out._

_Sirius looked bewildered, “What happened?”_

_Remus took charge, “Panic attack. I don’t know what’s happened, but we need a healer. Tonks, floo for Madam Pomfrey, tell her its urgent, and we’ll take him to his room.”_

_Tonks nodded and made for the fireplace while Remus shakily lifted his wand and levitated Harry into the air, noticing that his right leg flopped unnaturally and that there was blood on the back of his oversized shirt._

_Ignoring it for the moment in an attempt to not panic, Remus began to walk up the stairs towards Sirius’ old room, the one he had put aside for Harry. They laid him down and looked at each with worried expressions._

_Sirius handed Remus some broken frames that he recognised as Harry’s and he fixed them with a wave of his wand._

_“What do you think happened?”_

_Remus’ eyes flashed, “I have a feeling that his relatives happened.”_

_“What?!”_

_Suddenly, Harry began to thrash in the bed, clearly having a nightmare. As Sirius fell to his knees next to the bed, he sat upright with a gasp and opened his eyes then instantly recoiled as he saw his godfather._

_“Harry, Harry.” The Sirius tried to sooth him._

_“Here are your glasses, Harry.” Remus held them out and watched as his cub shoved them onto his nose and took a quick glance around the room before a panicked look crossed his face as he looked towards the door._

_It was Tonks, leading Madam Pomfrey into the room._

_“What seems to be the problem?” the Healer asked, and Remus watched as Harry frozen in place like a deer caught in headlights._

_“We aren’t too sure, he didn’t react well to his first apparition, then we noticed his hand and then he had a panic attack and passed out, he only just woke up – I think he was having a nightmare.”_

_“Do you know the cause of the panic attack?”_

_Remus shook his head, “Sirius tried to give him a hug, he flinched every time someone came near him.”_

_Madam Pomfrey gave him a look that was a mixture of sadness and worry then carefully moved over to the bed and asked in her softest voice, “Harry? What’s the matter, dear? Where does it hurt?”_

_Harry just looked up at her with wide eyes, still unable to move._

_“Can I see your hand?”_

_He watched as Harry began to breath in short gasps again and curled up into a tight ball, blinking heavily._

_“He’s panicking again. Please move back and give him some room, I need to try and give him a calming draught. She pulled a potion out of her medical bag and held it out to the teenager slowly “Drink that please, Harry.”_

_If anything, Harry panicked more._

_“I’m not sure that he’s going to take it. I might have to spell it straight into his stomach.” She told them then turned back to Harry, “Please drink, it will make you feel better.”_

_Harry squeezed his eyes shut and began to speak, quietly at first, the louder until he was shouting, “No, no, no – Hermione!” Remus wasn’t sure if he knew that he was saying it out loud, “Hermione. No! Hermione!”_

_Madam Pomfrey shook her head, pulled a new potion out of her bag and did a quick spell. Harry immediately stopped shouting and relaxed, almost unnaturally. She stood and moved towards them._

_“I gave him a small amount of dreamless sleep straight to his stomach; it will keep him out for about two hours. I need to run a full diagnostic, but I suggest that you get Miss Granger here for when he wakes up.”_

_Remus nodded and began to write a letter while the Healer waved her wand and Sirius watching the parchment next to him filling up with injuries with growing anger. Remus sent the letter off, then turned to Sirius, pulling him into a hug. As he did so, he caught sight of the parchment and his blood went cold._

_Ten minutes later, the sheets finally stopped being filled and Madam Pomfrey held them up with a sigh._

_“The first one is his current injuries, the other five are old injuries.” She made three copies and they each sat down to read them._

_Remus felt his rage growing inside him and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to go and pay a visit to the Dursley at full moon. They had dared to hurt his cub! Scratches all over his back? A crushed hand? Countless broken bones and bruises over the years and clear malnourishment!_

_Sirius wasn’t happy to wait until full moon, he was ready to go right then, wanted fugitive or not. He tried to stand up but found himself stuck to the chair, he flailed for a moment then turned to glare at Remus._

_“Let me up, we can kill them together.” He growled but Remus just looked confused then tried to get up himself._

_“As much as I would like to, I can’t move either. I wasn’t me who stuck you down.”_

_“It was me.” A voice from the doorway said and Tonks stalked into the room, “Now you two_ listen _to_ me _, you are the closet things Harry has to family, I can tell that without even knowing him, but killing those awful animals will_ not _help him! It will just get_ you _sent to Azkaban instead of_ them _! You will stay right here and help him while I gather the evidence and go straight to Amelia Bones – she’ll keep it away from the press.”_

_Remus sighed and looked back to Harry with a resigned nod; it was odd to see someone with so many injuries looking so peaceful._

Hermione sat at the table in shock, “They’ve been doing this to his for years and I didn’t notice.” She buried her face in her hands as the tears came again.

Her dad rubbed her back, “Honey, it’s not your fault. Let’s just go and see how we can help him.”

She scrubbed the tears from her eyes, nodded and stood up, “We need to go now.”

“I can only take one at a time, I’ll take Hermione and her trunk and come back for you.” Remus explained quickly to the Grangers.

He grabbed Hermione’s trunk and her arm before twisting away to Grimmauld Place. She immediately ran into the house and Tonks showed her up to Harry’s room.

Panting from her run up the stairs, Hermione skidded through the door of Harry’s room to see Madam Pomfrey leaning over a frail looking figure lying lifeless on the bed.

“Harry?!”

The Healer turned to face her, “Miss Granger! Please take a seat while I finish this process.”

He was only covered from the waist up, his top half bare, and his bottom half dressed in a pair of soft pyjama bottoms. One hand was swaddled in bandages already.

Hermione was acutely aware of his state of undress, but more for the condition of the skin - which was cut, torn, and bruised in ways she didn’t even think possible – than the reason she thought she would when she had imagined in the past what he might look under his robes (which happened much more often than she would care to admit).

Still breathing shallowly, although now from panic as much as the stairs, she sunk into the chair at the end of the bed and watched Madam Pomfrey as she waved her wand over Harry in carefully intricate patterns, interspersed with potions spelled into his stomach, as the magic settled into his skin.

The hypnotic movements of light calmed the horror that was inside her at the extent of his visible injuries; her fascination at the treatments being performed wasn’t matched by her concern over Harry, but that wasn’t to say that her curiosity wasn’t strong.

After an unknown amount of time, Madam Pomfrey stopped her movements and took a deep breath, wiping sweat from her brow as she stretched out her fingers, which had cramped from holding her wand so tightly for so long.

Flicking her wand one last time - in what Hermione thought was a diagnostic charm but seemed more specific than the general one she had seen used before – she read the readings then gave a nod, before finally seeming to remember that Hermione was there.

“He had internal injuries and bleeding.” She explained, picking up a potion and making a flicking motion towards Harry’s stomach that made it disappear into him, “One of his ribs was pressing into his lung and limited oxygen so I had to move it before I could heal it, and he had a few other serious internal injuries which needed to be fixed before I can begin to mend his bones, besides the ones in his hand which couldn’t wait.”

Hermione stared in horror, “What happened to him?” she whispered.

Madam Pomfrey paused for a moment before reaching for a sheet of paper, “His injuries when he arrived. We think it was his relatives, but we won’t know for certain until he wakes up.”

Not able to hold back a gasp at the long list, Hermione scanned it; broken ribs, shin bones, jaw, crushed hand, everything bruised, cuts everywhere.

“Why do you think it was his relatives?” she asked, not even sure that she wanted to know the answer.

“I scanned for past injuries also.” She sighed, lifted a few more sheets of paper from the table, “This is not the first time this has happened.”

Tears blurred Hermione’s vison as she took the papers and leafed through them, each new injury adding to her growing horror and guilt. Eventually she broke and sobbed into her hands, not stopping even when she felt comforting arms around her; the arms of her mum, she realised.

“H-how could I n-not know?” she sobbed, “H-how could I have missed that he’s gone through so much. I should have _noticed_ , Mum!”

“Here now, Sweetheart.” Her mum soothed, pulling a hand softly through her hair, “You can’t blame yourself for this, it’s not your fault. I hate that this happened to such a sweet, innocent boy, but he had to be good at hiding it for you to not have noticed. It’s not your fault, Hun.”

“B-but the signs were all there, Mum! He doesn’t like physical contact, he flinches if you come too close, he’s always been way too thin, he never talks about his home life unless he’s mentioning about how his relatives hate him. The signals were all there and I still missed them!”

She pulled back and looked up at the person who knew her the best in the whole world. Her mum’s eyes, looking so much like her own, were soft with sadness and shining with tears.

“You can’t go blaming yourself, Love. It’s always easy to spot the signs when you know what they mean. This is not your fault. All you can do now if be here for him.”

Wiping the back of her hand across his face to rid her eyes of tear remaining there, she nodded, looking away from her mother, who was crouched in front of her chair, and towards Harry, who was still peacefully asleep in his bed.

It was strange to see someone with so many injuries looking so peaceful, even in sleep.

After a few minutes of staring at her best friend - analysing the way his face was free of the worry and his shoulders free of the tension that he carried around with him every day, to the point where she had almost stopped noticing it – Hermione looked around the room.

Madam Pomfrey was still there, pulling potions out of her bag from a list, Sirus was sat on a chair on the opposite side of the room, Remus was stood tensely in the doorway and she could hear the murmur of her dad and the lady with pink hair who had shown her up to Harry’s room talking softly out in the hall.

“He should be waking up soon, are you okay to stay?” Madam Pomfrey asked her gently.

Not able to bring herself to speak, she nodded firmly.

“There’s a bathroom just through there.” She pointed to a door off the room that she hadn’t noticed before, “You can wash your face.”

Murmuring a quiet thanks, she slipped into the bathroom, the sight of her tear-streaked face being a reminder of Harry’s condition that allowed her to shed a few more tears before she splashed water to remove the traces of salt.

Emerging once more to see that her parents had left, and Remus was now sitting in the chair that she had been in, so she placed herself at the foot of the bed, smoothing the covers around Harry but careful not to touch him in case there was an injury below the duvet that she didn’t know about – which there probably was having seen the list of injuries – as he began to shift into the land of waking.

With a look to Madam Pomfrey to check it was okay, Hermione moved further up the bed until she could run her hand through his slightly matted hair as he stirred.

“Mione?” a voice croaked, so quiet she wasn’t sure if she hadn’t imagined it.

“Yes, Harry, it’s me. I’m here.”

“Wish all my dreams were like this.” He mumbled - so softly she had to strain her ears to hear it even from her close position – his eyes still closed.

“It’s not a dream, Harry.”

His eyes snapped open and Hermione nearly recoiled at how dead the normally bright eyes looked. They were almost grey and looked as if all of the life had been leached from them.

These eyes studied her, the person they belonged to not saying anything at all. He wasn’t quite expressionless, his face was filled with pain, but she wasn’t sure if that pain was physical or emotional.

“Are you in pain?”

He began to shake his head, but the wince at the movement gave him away so she turned around to ask for pain relief potion only to find Remus, Sirius, and Madam Pomfrey hovering directly behind her.

Them being there surprised her, she thought that Harry would have noticed them and reacting in some way, but it was obvious when she turned back to him again that he hadn’t noticed until she turned away from him; at which point he panicked.

His eyes were wide, and his breathing became shallow as he stared at them all, eyes flicking from Madam Pomfrey, to Sirius, to Remus and back again. Each second that passed his movements became tighter and more panicked but he winced every time he moved so the Healer gently pushed Hermione to the side so she could give him the potion.

This turned out to be the wrong move as he flinched violently before rolling onto his side and curling up to protect himself.

The four next to him couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of blood matting the bedsheets and various shapes of sizes of glass shards sticking from his back, dripping blood.

“Why has that not been healed yet!” Sirius yelped.

Madam Pomfrey shushed him, “My diagnostic charms told me that he had scratches on his back, and they weren’t bleeding anymore, I didn’t realise that there was still something in them as I hadn’t looked at his back yet. I haven’t healed all of his shallow cuts and bruises because the body can only take so much healing at once.”

She pulled things out of her bag as she talked, “They can’t be taken out by magic, it’s too delicate, I’ll have to do it by hand, but I can’t give him any more dreamless sleep again so soon, so he’ll have to be awake for it. The best I can do is this pain potion.”

Moving forwards again with a stronger pain potion, she tried to coax him to uncurl and drink the potion, but she was only successful in making him panic further as his breath came in shallow gasps that were further prohibited by his legs curled up into his chest.

“I can’t give him this if he doesn’t calm down.”

“Can’t you spell it into his stomach?” Sirius asked.

“In this state, he’ll just throw it back in again.” She shook her head.

“Can you give him a calming draught?”

“Same problem. Plus calming draughts don’t help with flight, fight or freeze reflexes, which is what this is. We need to calm him down.”

The blood was beginning to become sticky on Harry’s back as the four tried to think of something to do.

“I’ll try, he was more relaxed with me when he first woke up.” Hermione moved forwards without waiting for a reply and lifted her hand to gently pet his hair as she had been doing when he first woke up.

“Harry, Harry, it’s okay, I’m trying to help Harry, it’s okay.” She soothed, repeating the words over and over until he was at least not in danger of passing out from lack of oxygen caused by hyperventilation.

“Please Harry, drink this.” She passed him the pain potion which he swallowed thickly, then a blood replenisher that had been passed to her.

“We need to get this glass out of your back, will you lie down so Madam Pomfrey can do it?”

Immediately the panic was back, the wild eyes and the shallow breathing.

“Do you not want Madam Pomfrey to do it?”

He shook his head fervently, wincing less than before.

“But it needs to come out, you can’t expect us to just leave it there, can you?”

Again, he shook his head.

“So you want it out?”

He nodded carefully.

“Then you have to let her do it.”

Again with the head shaking, his eyes looked up at her pleadingly.

Sighing softly, she asked, “Will you let me do it?”

The pause before he shook his head told her all that she needed to know. He didn’t want to put the pressure on her, to force her, but he also wasn’t going to let anyone else do it without a fight.

“I can if you want me to.” She whispered to him.

She could, she knew that she was capable, and she wasn’t squeamish at the sight of blood, but she was more than a little uncomfortable that he was going to able to feel every little piece that she took out.

He nodded hesitantly and she gave him a small smile of reassurance.

“Okay, I’ll do it, just give me a minute to set up.”

Another short nod and he squeezed his eyes shut, taking deep breaths as she moved to talk to Madam Pomfrey.

“He’s not going to let you near him right now, but he agreed to let me do it.”

“You? Are you sure?” Sirius asked.

Hermione’s eyes flashed, “Do you not think I would do this for Harry?”

Remus calmed both of them, “Of course we do, Hermione, but we’re worried that you might not be as okay with it once you start.”

“I have to help him.”

“Of course you do.” The Healer stepped in smoothly, “Do you know the Episkey spell?” 

She nodded hesitantly and Sirius made a shallow cut on his arm with his wand, “Here, make sure you can do it, not that I don’t believe you, I just want you to be sure of yourself. And don’t worry, the trace doesn’t work behind these wards.”

Taking a deep breath, she steadied her wand in her head and made a knitting motion with it as she spoke the incantation then watched as the skin melded back together, good as new.

“Well done, you’re a natural.” Madam Pomfrey soothed her nerves, “But don’t be too worried if some of Mr Potter’s scar, they are quite a bit deeper and have been there for longer.”

Carefully, she Scourgified the blood both from bedclothes and gently from Harry’s back before moving closer to him.

“Harry, you need to lie on your front, so you aren’t stretching the skin and making it bleed more.”

After taking a few more deep breaths, he moved to follow her instructions, his face carefully turned away from the room and towards the wall.

Turning to get a pair of tweezers to remove the glass, a tub to put it in and a bowl of warm water with a cloth to wash any remaining blood, Hermione noticed that it was just her and Madam Pomfrey in the room.

After one last reassuring smile and a final deep breath, Hermione steadied herself, “Okay Harry, I’m going to start now, this is going to hurt, I’m sorry.”

It was a slow and painful process, pulling each individual piece of glass from the skin it was embedded within. Harry’s whole body was taught and flinched each time a fragment was pulled free while Hermione had to remember to breath.

She whispered words of encouragement as she sealed the cuts, trying to ignore the part of her that was horrified at how badly most of them were scaring as she cast the spell.

An hour later she had to stop.

“I’m about half-way, Harry.” She told him softly, “You’re doing really well, I just need to get some more water.”

He gave a small nod and buried his face into the bedclothes as he waited for her to come back.

“You’re doing really well.” Madam Pomfrey reassured her, “I’m impressed, you could be a good Healer Hermione.”

She shook her head, sipping at the Pepper Up she had been given, “Pulling some glass out of someone’s back doesn’t make me a healer.”

“No, but it shows that you have the patience and the will, plus you have good bedside manners.”

“Maybe, I’d just kind of assumed that I’d go through the Ministry, but I might change my mind.” She shrugged then turned back to Harry and the task at hand.

Nearly an hour later and Hermione was taking out the last piece, which had been left for last because it was quite large and embedded deep into the bottom of his back, plus it was surrounded by a large bruise which would make it all the more painful.

“Last one, Harry.” She soothed, “Nearly done, but this one is deep.”

He tensed beneath her as she pulled it, the answering whimper of pain making her heart break.

Blood began to trickle quickly, so she moved her wand in a swift but sure motion to seal the flesh then gently swiped the blood away with the damp cloth.

“All done, well done.” She petted the same small piece of hair that was the least matted, “Just give me a minute.”

She turned around and tried to ignore the look of sorrow on the Healer’s face as she caught sight of the severe scarring on Harry’s back.

“What now?”

“Now, he needs to sleep. We can’t do anymore healing today, his body can’t take it, but tomorrow we can fix his bones, I’ve already set most of them, and I’ve fixed his hand but it is still severely damaged and will probably be near useless for the whole holiday. The day after that will be bruises and cuts – he’ll be able to have a bath then – a few days after that I will need to re-set a few old bone breaks that haven’t been set properly.”

“What about who did this to him?”

“He needs to tell us who did it to him, we can guess, but we don’t know how many are involved.”

Hermione gave a soft sigh, “I’ll ask him.”

“You should go and lie down.”

“I will. After I ask him and help him sleep.”

Madam Pomfrey took one look at her determined expression and nodded in defeat.

“Harry?” Hermione asked softly, moving next to him again.

He flinched when heard someone speaking to him but relaxed minutely when he worked out it was Hermione.

“Harry we can’t do anymore today, you need to go to sleep now. Do you think you’ll be able to?”

He shook his head.

“I can stay with you until you go to sleep.” She promised and he gave a hesitant nod, “Okay, I’ll stay, but first I need you to tell me who did this to you.”

Flinching violently, he shook his head, moving onto his side and carefully curling up into a ball, staring into the wall.

“Harry, please. If you tell us, then you’ll never have to go near them again. We have the evidence to put them in prison, please Harry, I want you to be safe. Who was it?”

Again, he shook his head.

“I promise that you’ll be safe from them. If I have to go and talk sense into the DMLE myself then I will, you are never going back there.”

There were tears falling down his face as he finally turned to look at her, still shaking his head a little. The look in his eyes told her that he wanted to believe what she was telling him.

“Was it your Uncle?”

Nothing happened beyond another flinch, he neither nodded nor shook his head, just looking at her with tear-filled, pleading eyes.

“I need to know Harry, was it your Uncle?”

After a few seconds he nodded tentatively.

“Was it only your Uncle?”

Another nod.

“Thank you for telling me.” She stroked his hair and let out a light sigh, “Now you should go to sleep. I’ll stay right here with you.”

She pulled the duvet up around him and he settled into the soft warmth as she began to hum a lullaby her mum used to sing to her while continuing to pet his hair.

Within minutes, his breathing evened out and he was asleep. She stayed for a little while longer before checking they were alone then pressing a kiss to his cheek and slipping from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is the reactions of various people to Harry's injuries. Snape, Dumbledore, Minerva and a continuation of Hermione.  
> I'm not sure when it's going up, but it'll probably be in a few weeks.  
> I know most people go with Dan and Emma for Hermione's parents names, but I try to keep the names the same across all my fics just so I don't get confused and I was on a Downton Abbey binge when I came up with this, so Mary and Mathew it is :)  
> Lu


	3. It’s a lang road that’s no goat a turnin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who’s back?!  
> I hope you’ll enjoy this cuz I’m supposed to be writing 3 fics and this is the only one that is getting anywhere at the moment (sorry to anyone who is reading Severitus Tales especially as I am supposed to be uploading every week and haven’t actually uploaded in nearly 2 months).  
> This chapter is mostly an introduction to the perfect couple that is Minnie and Poppy. They’re little couple goals, so adorable. Obviously I took some creative liberties with the backstories of these two; I think JK did some stuff on Minnie for pottermore but lets just ignore that shall we? Yes, we shall!  
> Anyway, before I start gushing (but seriously, they’re amazing, why are there not more fics), let’s get to it.  
> WARNINGS: there's nothing too bad in this chapter, just general mentions of abuse.  
> Lu

Hermione felt her anger rise as she walked down the stairs of Grimmauld Place. Her walking became storming as she burst through the door to the kitchen and glared around at everyone who was there.

She recognised a fair number of them - Sirius, Remus, Madam Pomfrey, her parents of course, the pink-haired lady who she didn’t actually know the name of yet and Mad-eye Moody (though hopefully the real one this time) – plus a few that she didn’t; a tall man in Auror robes stood by the fire and an elderly lady hunched in a chair.

“Hermione love, is everything okay?”

“No Mum! Everything is _not_ okay! We left him there; he’s been there for _fourteen years_ suffering them and he’s somehow _still_ the _sweetest boy to ever exist_. He _didn’t deserve this_!”

Her face became more and more red as she hissed, her voice rising to a shout as her hair began to crackle with magically electricity, and she was oblivious anything other than her own rantings.

“Those _monsters_. They did all of that to him! They made him feel _worthless_! They made _hated_ him! And we just _left_ him there!”

A smashing sound made her aware of the room again and how her magic was making everything around her rattle as an outlet for her anger. Another smash told her that it was the glasses on the table she was destroying and her focused changed from what she was saying to trying to rein in my magic before it obliterated everything in the room.

Talking deep breaths that quickly turned to sobs, she crouched on the floor as she felt her magic curling around her like a comfort blanket, thrumming soothingly.

When she finally looked up, it was to see that everyone was carefully minding their own business, apart from her parents who were knelt next to her, hands on her back supportively. Seeing she had stopped crying, her dad hauled her up and deposited her in a chair while they sank down into the adjacent ones.

Once they were settled, the man who had been standing nearby stepped forwards, his scarlet Auror robes flickering fluidly in the firelight.

“I’m Senior Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, this Auror Nymphadora Tonks.” He motioned to the pink haired lady to stepped forwards eagerly.

“Wotcher Hermione, I just go by Tonks. You’ll probably see me around a lot ‘cause I’m also Sirius’ cousin.”

Hermione gave a faint smile in greeting.

“And you know Retired Auror Moody.” Kingsley continued.

“Well, we haven’t met exactly, I think I was too busy being impersonated at the time.” Mad-eye growled, stomping forwards on his peg leg.

“Nice to meet you. The real you.”

Mad-eye gave a grave chuckle and Kingsley rolled his eyes.

“I’m putting together the case against whoever did this to Harry to take to Madam Bones – she’s the Head of the DMLE – as soon as we can. Tonks is helping me, and Mad-eye is coming to because - “

“Because I trained her, and she will know it’s serious if I’m there, retired as I am.” Moody interrupted.

“Right. Madam Bones is very professional, she won’t let this get out to the press and she’ll make sure they go to prison, but we don’t know who did this to Harry, and he isn’t wanting to talk to people that he knows, let alone Aurors, ‘cept you. Do you know who did this to him?”

Hermione nodded, “I got him to tell me.” She took a breath to keep herself from losing control again, “He said it was his uncle. He said that his aunt and cousin weren’t involved, but…” she paused.

“You don’t think it’s possible for them to not know it was happening?” Kingsley asked helpfully and she nodded.

“Right, thank you.” He gave him a small smile then turned to the room, “The other thing Harry needs is a guardian. It will only be a temporary one, because he needs to agree to someone for a permeant guardian and he doesn’t seem like he’s trusting anyone at the moment.” He looked to Hermione, who shook her head in confirmation, “He’ll someone long term, but we need someone now who can stop the wrong people from getting to him, any ideas?”

Sirius sighed, “Unless we can get me cleared, I’m out, and Remus’ out because of his condition.”

Remus placed a kiss to Sirius’ jaw in comfort while Hermione looked on with raised eyebrows, wondering when that had happened. She shook herself, realising that a) I wasn’t really any of her business and b) it didn’t make any different to their ability – or in this case inability - to legally look after Harry.

“I live in a one-bedroom flat. I think he’s going to need more people around that to help him recover.” Tonks added.

Hermione sighed, “He wouldn’t have enough protection if he came to live with us.”

Her parents shot her confused looks, but she promised them with her eyes that she would explain everything tomorrow and they went with it, trusting their daughter.

“Minerva and I could take her.” Madam Pomfrey spoke up, “I know a little of mind-healing and I know that Min had always had a soft spot for him.”

Hermione looked up in surprise, “Are you…?”

“Married? Yes. For nearly fifteen years.” She smiled wistfully then shook herself, “He can’t be moved while he is healing, but then he move to Hogwarts with us although there would be nothings stopping him visiting here often.”

Everyone thought it over for a little while and then agreed. Minerva and Poppy were the best choice for Harry’s guardians.

“If you need us for anything then please floo, but I need to go back to Hogwarts and explain the situation. I’ll be back in the morning to give Harry his potions if you don’t need me before.”

There were goodbyes and goodnights all around as everyone began to leave besides Sirius, who offered to show Hermione to her room, and Remus, who did the same for her parents.

Despite the soft bed, Hermione had a lot of trouble falling to sleep, instead seeing the hulking figure of Harry’s uncle bending over him wherever she looked.

* * *

Poppy Pomfrey was a trained healer, and had been for forty-seven years, the last twenty-four of those being in her position as Hogwarts Healer, just happening to start the year that one group of Marauders began to frequent her new domain.

There was a nine-year age gap between the pair, which meant that Poppy had already been halfway through her Healer training when Minerva began her schooling, but that didn’t stop the two from becoming close quickly once they did meet, having to spend as much time as they did writing up all the reports that they had to while Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and James Potter were around spending time in the hospital wing every other week because of some silly prank or other.

Many a glass of Scottish Whiskey (a guilty pleasure that both women shared) had been sipped as they laughed over the antics of the Marauders and those around them in the appropriate location of their personal rooms rather than in front of the guilty parties.

The pair had known each other for seven years when they finally became a couple, and nine when they married, just two weeks after Harry been born.

Their wedding had been a quiet affair, with only a few close friends and family attending. It had been the first event that tiny baby Harry, and the last that James and Lily, had attended and it held a special place in their hearts.

Harry spent way too much time in the Hospital Wing for either of their piece of minds, but never having had a reason to run a full health check on him, Poppy never had, something that she now regretted strongly.

Minerva had been especially distraught when Albus had insisted that Harry stay with his muggle relatives, but she had been eventually convinced by his reasoning of their being the incorrect age for raising a baby and the blood wards created by Lily’s sacrifice, so Poppy had followed along, taking the time to console and reassure her wife in their trust of the wizened Headmaster.

Over the years, they had made a point to regularly ask Albus how Harry was doing, getting positive responses each time that reassured and calmed them.

He was having a normal, happy childhood.

They weren’t allowed to visit, but that was just because Albus had agreed with Harry’s aunt that they would leave them be until he came to Hogwarts.

Still, they trusted him, despite disagreeing that his parent’s friends should be kept away.

It was when Harry started Hogwarts that the arguments truly started. Albus didn’t want them to initiate any conversation with him, leaving him to come to them - which he of course didn’t because he didn’t know that they were good friends with his parents.

Those arguments had happened a few times every year for the past four years, and another annual argument was scheduled at the end of each school year for whatever adventures Harry had inevitably gone on – on top of all that the Board of Governors threw at him.

Possessed Quirrell in first year which ended with a ‘discussion’ (Minerva shouting with her scary Scottish accent and Albus cowering behind his desk) about why exactly Albus thought it was a good idea to hide the _Philosophers Stone of all things_ in a school with traps guarding it that three first years could get past (even if they were three exceptional first years).

The Chamber in second year that somehow had Harry come out a fight with a possessed child, a shade of Voldemort and a _basilisk_ of all things. Poppy had taken a go that year, asking Albus why Harry wasn’t immediately sent to the feast after he appeared from being bitten by a bloody basilisk.

His excuse of ‘if there was a problem then he would be dead’ was nowhere near good enough for her, and she had spent an hour graphically listing possible injuries that one could suffer in an unknown place before they were dead that didn’t necessarily have to do with the basilisk bite, until he threw up into bucket.

Third year brought the Dementors and the threat of Sirius Black; however false the threat of Sirius was, the Dementors wreaked havoc across the school and grounds, causing many more petty fights, episodes of depression and generally encouraging a bleaker way of life, which was a nightmare for students and teachers alike.

But Dumbledore’s hands were tied by the Minister himself and not even the Chief Warlock can out-order the Minister, so the Dementors stayed right up until the point where Harry very nearly got kissed but was saved by an unknown force at the last minute.

And that wasn’t even going into the tension around why Sirius hadn’t had a trial in the first place, however guilty everyone thought he was. That, of course, had even more bearing now that Harry needed a new place to live as there was no way Sirius would have allowed his godson to live with the Dursleys, abusive or not.

Fourth year brough the Triwizard Tournament which encouraged frequent arguments, the first being when the thing was announced, the second being when Albus couldn’t stop Harry from being having to compete, of course Severus’ behaviour towards Harry was argued about also, then the ridiculous idea of having the Champions go up against a dragon, then putting people (some of them unsuspecting) in a lake in the middle of winter and finally not noticing that Mad-eye, someone he had known for decades – was an imposter.

All in all, these last four years had taken its toll, but on Albus – who was more overworked than ever - and on Harry, especially as it was now revealed that his time to relax during the summer, was actually the time life was the hardest for him.

Which was all the more insane when you remembered that he had done things like fighting basilisks and Voldemort while a school.

Shaking her head to pull herself from the memories of the past fifteen years, Poppy left her office, where she had flooed to stow her medical bag, and moved quickly to the quarters she shared with her wife, which up by the Gryffindor tower, Minerva being their Head of House and all.

Pulling off her coat and hanging it on the peg, she let out a loud sigh.

“Mo Ghràdh?” her wife called, coming out from her little office and taking one look at her weary face before calling an elf for so tea and scooping her up from where Poppy stood, trying to summon the energy to make it to the sofa.

“What’s wrong, mo Ghràdh?” she reached up to take off her wife’s hair net and undo her tight bun before leading her over to the sofa and settling them down, managing to somehow keep them gently rocking the whole time, “What emergency was there?”

“It’s…” she shook her head and buried her face in Minerva’s shoulder, their hair mixing together as she ran a hand through it soothingly, whispering words of reassurance.

This had become a natural position for the two over the years, being a Healer was a stressful job, but it was also time and emotion sensitive; there was a time and a place for breakdowns and that place was safe in her wife’s arms once her job was done, not standing over a damaged body.

But Minerva hadn’t seen her this bad since the first severe abuse case she had ever had to process at Hogwarts, when they had known each other just five years and had yet to get around their mutual stubbornness and admit their feelings which were secured by this very act of comfort.

“Here now mo Chridhe.” she wiped the tears that were still running down her wife’s face with a wrinkled finger as she sat back, “Are they okay now?”

“He’s recovering physically, but it’s going to be a while mentally.”

Minerva’s heart broke at the sadness in her voice, “Can you tell me about it?” she asked, knowing that sometimes her Healer’s oath stopped her from saying anything at all – not that she was ever given personal details.

“It was young Nymphadora who came to get me.” She had only sent a Patronus to say there was an emergency, not having the time for anything else.

“Nymphadora? But wasn’t she picking up Harry today?”

Her heart froze when Poppy nodded shakily.

“Not Harry? What happened?!”

Taking a few deep breaths, she began to explain, everything that she had been told happened before she arrived, how he had panicked when he woke up and how they had brought Hermione in, who then spent two hours helping him before breaking down in the kitchen once he was asleep.

Minerva was horrified, both that this had happened and that she had done nothing to stop it or even notice it.

Burying her face in her hands, she sucked in shallow breaths; undecide between grief and despair, or anger and guilt.

“Can I see?” she asked, knowing that her wife would have a copy of the scans with her.

Sighing sadly, Poppy pulled them out before pouring them each a huge mug of tea so that they could savour the warmth as she read.

By the time she was down the first half page, anger kicked grief out of its place as ruler of Minerva’s head and her face began to grow somehow red and deathly pale at the same time.

“We left him there! Albus insisted! And we just listened! Told us time and time again that he was safe and happy and _well_!”

“We have all made mistakes, Min! Yes, there is clearly something that hasn’t happened when it should have done, but none of us noticed. He’s been in my Hospital Wing countless times and I never ran a full scan. And we both agreed to leave him there fourteen years ago.”

“But this isn’t a mistake that can just be fixed or brushed aside. You said he’ll take days to heal!”

Poppy nodded briefly, “Days to heal the injuries, then he’s severely malnourished so he’ll have to be on a potion regime until at least the end of the holidays, depending on how well it goes. Then you have all the mental healing to recover from the trauma which will take months, most likely years.”

“He just panicked whenever anyone went near him, Min. He doesn’t trust any of us, apart from Hermione, and there was tension even there. It is going to be a lot of work, for him and for everyone else.”

That sentence made her anger calm to grief and their eyes met for a moment, sharing understand that came from fifteen years of marriage.

“You offered for us to be guardians, didn’t you?”

“Yes. We would have taken him from age one if we could have, I didn’t think you would mind. And it might not be permeant, it might just be until he can make the decision without hyperventilating, but he might decide to stay with us, I just don’t know.”

“No, mo Ghràdh, I don’t mind, he can stay with us for as long as he wants or needs. Who’s handling the case?”

“Kingsley, with Nymphadora helping and Mad-eye on bucking up. They’re taking it straight to Amelia as we have all the evidence we need, injuries past and present and he told Hermione that it was his Uncle, so we have more than enough to get him at least arrested.”

“Were his cousin and aunt involved?”

“He didn’t say, but they can’t have not known with the number of injuries he had.” She sighed, waving her wand to check the time, “It’s late. Should we talk to Albus now or wait until the morning?”

“He’s leaving for a ICW conference first thing, he won’t be back for another week.”

“Now it is then.” She let out another sigh and stood, her joints creaking slightly with wear and tear as she pulled her wife up and pulled her into a quick kiss, “Then bed.”

“I have a feeling we’re going to need it after this.”

Minerva used the walk to channel her emotions into readying for the chewing out of Dumbledore, and Poppy couldn’t help but smile fondly at the passion her wife had, especially when it came to protecting her family or her lion cubs.

Then again, she knew that fury had its place, and shouting at Albus wasn’t going to get anywhere, so she pulled Minerva to a stop just outside the griffon guarding the stairwell up to his office.

“Min, he would have done something if he had known.” She soothed.

“He was supposed to be keeping an eye on him, he shut us all off, so it was his job to know!”

“And it was our job to find out these past four years and yet we didn’t. We are not blameless, neither is Albus, but running in shouting isn’t going to be the best option here. Let me take the lead.”

After staring into her eyes for a moment, Minerva nodded, slumping slightly as the wind left her sails.

Poppy spoke the password and they went up the stairs in silence, their only form of communication being the gentle squeezing of their hands together.

They were allowed entry and she moved through the door in sure but quiet strides, Minerva following behind her as she silently placed a piece of paper in front of Albus, who smiled genially up at them.

“Poppy, Minerva, how may I help you tonight…” he trailed off as he picked up the paper and began reading, growing more and more green as he got further down the page.

The Healer almost felt sorry for him – he had always had a sensitive stomach – but not quite enough to offer him anything.

“That is just the injuries he had when I started healing him.” she told him softly, watching as his eyes snapped to meet hers, flashing with fiery anger.

“This is one of my students?” he snarled.

She nodded a tiny nod, “This are his previous injuries.” She handed him the other pieces of paper, tensing, and wrapping her hand in Minerva’s when his magic began to rattle around the room, thick enough to choke someone and powerful enough to shock them.

“Who?”

Sometimes people who knew Albus forgot that he was the most powerful wizard in the country and the one who defeated the most feared dark wizard before Voldemort – Grindelwald – because of his grandfatherly personality which had shone through right from when he had first taught Poppy, some fifty-eight years ago as a Transfiguration Professor.

But right in this moment Poppy could well believe it. There was a subtle power to him that would rear its head when stimulated and do whatever it needed to do to protect whoever needed protecting.

“Harry Potter.”

The magic around them tightened and crackled for a full five minutes before suddenly relaxing as Albus slumped in his chair, defeated.

“He told me he didn’t like it there. I thought he was just wanting to stay in the magical world, not anything like this. I had Arabella Figg living nearby, checking on him; she said he was a bit small, but his father was small at that age too. The wards, they should have protected him from ill intent. The blood protection must have allowed it because it was allowed by the person powering the wards. I didn’t think it was possible. He should have been safe.”

Dumbledore rambled quietly, mostly to himself, looking every minute of his one-hundred-and-fifty years, the fire gone from the eyes that were staring down at his desk.

“Kingsley, Tonks and Mad-eye have taken it straight to Amelia Bones. At least his uncle will go to prison, if not his aunt as well. Harry didn’t say who was involved. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all. He panicked whenever anyone at all went near him, it’s going to take a lot for him to trust anyone ever again because none of us noticed and he probably feels weak, like he should have been able to stop it or hide it better which is making him panic all the more.

“He doesn’t want us to see him weak. In the end we had to get Miss Granger to come to Grimmauld Place just so he would calm down enough for him to tell us who did it. He panicked so much when I got close that Hermione had to pull hundreds of shards of glass off his back by hand, herself.”

Her voice rose slightly at the end and Dumbledore’s eyes still defeated eyes looked into hers again.

“Minerva and I are taking over guardianship temporarily, it might become permeant, but we don’t know yet. We’re going to add a room to our quarters for when he moves in. He will be safe behind these wards, but I also expect he will spend a lot of time at Grimmauld with his godfather.” It wasn’t often that she told rather than asked, but this was a special circumstance.

“The wards at Headquarters can be broken through.”

“They’re Black wards. They won’t be broken through quickly.”

“He will be safer staying here twenty-four hours.”

Poppy bristled slightly and he held up his hands in silent by weary defeat.

“You are his guardians now; it is up to you of course. I would say I have about ruined my chances of Harry ever trusting me again. Keep him here, let him spend time at Grimmauld, I just ask that you let me know what you decide. Goodnight now.”

He slowly stood from his desk and shuffled through a bookcase door to his private rooms.

The couple stood in silence for a few minutes before Minerva cleared her throat.

“Well, he was right about one thing. I don’t see the poor lad trusting him now. It will take enough time for him to trust us, as it is, he doesn’t seem to have ever had someone he can rely on like that.”

“Then we need to be that someone?”

“I think so, mo Ghràdh, yes. If he’ll let us in.”

Poppy sighed, “Come, my dear. I want to visit one more person before we got to bed.”

* * *

“Is everything alright?” Severus Snape asked the two ladies who were stood at his door at nearly eleven at night.

Minerva and Poppy were the two he was closest to on the teaching staff and possibly in life, they were the only ones who he had any time for. Poppy having brought him through many rough patches he had experienced while he was a student and Minerva ensuring that he was settled onto the teaching staff when he first started.

The only person he could say he was as close to was Lily, when he first new her, or Dumbledore who was somewhat of a mentor to him.

“Can we come in for a minute, Severus?”

He eyed them for a moment, “Of course, would you like a drink?” he showed them to the living room and offered them the sofa while he sat in the armchair.

Exchanging a quick glance with her wife, Poppy replied, “No thank you, we won’t be staying long enough I don’t think. I just came to ask you if you knew of anything that could get rid scars.”

Thinking for a moment, he asked, “Where these scars caused by magical or muggle means?”

“Muggle.”

Snape’s eyebrows rose in surprise, “How big?”

“There are many, of varying sizes. His whole back is one big scar and there are smaller ones all over his body. He is not completely healed yet, so there may be more.”

His eyes darkened dangerously, “So, they are recent?”

“Some from today, some from up to ten years ago.”

“Abuse?” the word was clipped, and Poppy nodded hesitantly, knowing that Severus’ had complex relationship with abuse, stemming from his own childhood experiences and being Head of a House that seemed to attract those with less than satisfactory home situations.

“This an odd time of year for it to be discovered. A Hogwarts student?” His was voice curt, and Poppy saw that his shields were firmly in place, protecting himself from a lifetime of hurt.

“Just finished fourth year. It was a coincidence. He lives with his muggle aunt and uncle during the summer, but some magical friends picked him up to spend the rest of the holidays with them and he could hardly walk. He had a panic attack and passed out because his glasses were broken, so couldn’t see when someone came towards him. His injuries were extensive. We are taking over his guardianship.” Minerva spoke up for the first time, speaking carefully as she knew that Severus was highly intelligent.

Sure enough, he was quiet for a less than a minute piecing it together.

Someone who was male and had just finished fourth year - that meant it could only be one of about twenty people.

Living which his muggle aunt and uncle suggested a muggleborn – which discounted Slytherin as everyone in fourth year was halfblood or pureblood and he didn’t know the other houses living situations as well – but there was another boy who was known for living with his muggle relatives despite being a halfblood who Severus knew wore glasses and was supposed to be moving to Grimmauld Place today.

Dread coiled in his stomach as he whispered in horror, “Harry Potter.”

Poppy and Minerva watched as he waged an internal war; fury, self-loathing, scorn, disbelief, and guilt raged across his face in quick succession and neither of the watching ladies were sure which had won until he suddenly stood and threw a glass that had been sitting innocently on the table at the opposite wall with a scream of rage.

“I _trusted_ him! He said he was doing well, he said he was being _spoilt_! One doesn’t get scars all over their body by being _spoilt_!” he began to pace backwards and forwards, “Just like James, Hagrid said, but with Lily’s eyes. Eyes that were spoilt by being in the face of someone who made my school life _hell_. Spoilt, Albus said, being spoilt makes you arrogant, he has plenty of arrogance. Or does he? Did I just see that because I thought he had been spoilt? What else have I misinterpreted or mis-seen?”

“Your parents don’t make you who you are, Severus, you of all people should know that.” Poppy interjected gently, knowing not to make a move towards the younger man just yet, “Especially as Harry didn’t even grow up with his parents.”

“No.” he stopped pacing only for a split second before starting again, “He grew up _abused_ instead. How did Albus no notice? How did I not notice when he came here? I’ve seen enough cases over the years. Again, I saw what I wanted to see.” He thought back over some memories, seeing them through a new filter, “He’s a scrawny little thing, wear’s scruffy clothes six sizes too large for him, only talks to his closest friends, shies away from attention, flinches when people come to close. _How did we miss this_?!”

“Severus.” Poppy stood up and grabbed his arms, stopping him in his tracks, “Severus, you’re right. We shouldn’t have missed this. Albus shouldn’t left him there in the first place, and we shouldn’t have let him, he should have checked, but he didn’t and now he is in his rooms, moping about and thinking that no one will ever trust him again.

“ _Someone_ should have noticed _something_ before, but we didn’t and that’s the end of it. Now we just need to pull together and move forwards in helping him, he’s away from them and that’s all we can do at this point in time. You can help him by looking into getting rid of his scars and, when he is ready for it, apologising for your behaviour. Yes, you’ve messed up, but you can still try and make it better.”

He took a few deep breaths, pulling his occlumency shields in tight and trying to calm himself.

“How were the scars on his back made?” he asked tightly.

“His uncle pushed him though a glass table and the shards embedded in his back. “They had been there for around twenty-four hours when we found them. They had to be taken out by hand by an inexperienced person while he was awake.” She paused for just a second, “From what I saw, there are scars beneath those too, from older injuries, almost as bad.”

Severus’ face became a vivid red and he launched himself towards the door, “I’M GOING TO KILL THEM.”

Neither of them had to ask who he was talking about.

“SEVERUS SNAPE. You get back here, _now_.” Minerva commanded, “You will do no such thing. I want them in prison, not you.”

He stopped in his tracks, sliding down to the floor, and burying his face in his hands, “I’ve failed her.”

Minerva and Poppy couched next to him on creaking joints, comforting him.

“I doubt she’s very happy with any of us right now. But we can’t go back into the past, just make a better future.”

“It’s a lang road that’s no goat a turnin.” Severus wryly quoted something that Minerva often said.

“Exactly.” She gave a rare smile and patted his knee, “Come on, pull us up, young person. We all need sleep so we can show a young boy what it really means to have a family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story doesn’t really have any bashing, but people do deal with their mistakes in different ways and let’s be honest, all the characters in Hp make mistakes – because everybody makes mistakes!  
> Also, I seem to be physically incapable of not redeeming people in my stories. The other thing I seem physically incapable of doing is not including phoenixes but shhhh, you aren’t supposed to know about that yet.  
> Translation for Minnie’s strange words:  
> Mo Ghràdh means my love, is just a cute lil nickname. Mo Chridhe means my heart, she uses it for those special moments when mo Ghràdh just won’t quite do. ‘It’s a lang road that’s no goat a turnin’ is an idiom that loosely translates to ‘don’t lose heart in dark times, things can’t keep going in the same direction forever’.  
> Also, I’m working on the assumption that there are 5 girls and 5 boys in each house in each year, making 10 in each house per year, 40 in total per year and 280 in the school. Even though I personally feel that Hogwarts would hold more students than that. My own secondary school had about 2,000 students and I always imagined it more on that scale. Hey ho, 40 per year is easier to deal with for stories.  
> Hope you enjoyed!  
> Lu


End file.
